Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Just as I slip my heels on, a knock comes on my apartment door. When I answer it, I find Matthew standing there holding a bouquet of lily’s. I take them from his outstretched hand, and he leans in to kiss my cheek. I can’t say I’ve had a man buy me flowers before. It’s a nice gesture. “You didn’t have to bring me flowers,” I say as I invite him inside.
“I did. Every woman deserves flowers.”
I put them in some water, rearrange them quickly, then grab my bag.
“Are you nervous?” I ask.
“No, should I be?”
I want to laugh at his confidence because most sane men would be nervous about entering this party, knowing who will be in attendance. I’m not sure how much he knows about my family, but I know he knows exactly who they are.
“No, but you’re the first date I’m bringing to meet them.”
He smiles and places a hand over his heart. “I’m honored. That’s a big step.”
Matthew is easy to get along with. He’s kind and thoughtful. But I still have that nagging feeling that something is missing.
He guides me to his car and opens the passenger door for me. He ticks all the boxes: never been married, has no children, isn’t afraid of my family. Actually, that last one probably deserves a question mark.
He may have worked with my uncle before, but my uncle has retired. And now the new generation is in charge, and they’ll drop him the moment he no longer holds any value.
We talk about his week in the office and a smear campaign he’s currently working on. Then he changes the conversation.
“So, I won’t run into any old boyfriends at this party, right?”
I laugh. I’ve never been in a serious relationship. And unless you count Ford, which I’m sure Ford wouldn’t even count himself, I haven’t been in anything close to a relationship.
“No, you’re safe from that situation,” I tell him, though I can’t guarantee Ford or the other men will be friendly. One date was a fluke; a second date might be what breaks him.
We continue talking casually, and he asks me if it’s okay for him to text me a little more often. I’m surprised by the question because he didn’t text me at all this week, and I kind of felt unsure about what was happening between us. I now understand he has boundaries, and I’m not quite sure if I like them. I don’t want to have to tell a man to text me. I want him to just think of me and do it. Is that really too much to ask? I know that’s something Ford wouldn’t have done. Another pang of frustration echoes through me because my mind, yet again, so naturally turns to Ford.
When we arrive at the rooftop bar, the valet opens my door, but Matthew is waiting for me. I slide my hand into his and, trying not to laugh, ask, “Are you ready?”
He gives my hand a squeeze as he answers, “Yes.”
And I think this man is out of his mind. Had someone told me a year ago I’d be able to hold a man’s hand in front of my brother, I would’ve called them insane. It’s what I’ve always wanted, though, so I try not to let my thoughts stray to anything but embracing this experience for what it is.
He leads me to the elevator. Pressing the button for the rooftop bar, we ascend quickly. The moment the doors open and we step out, we’re greeted with the sight of leather and diamond-accented decor, which I find rather fitting for my family.
I spot my parents straight away and take a deep breath as I guide Matthew over to introduce him. My father offers a polite enough smile and his hand, and I remember then that they’ve worked together before. I’m not the least bit surprised. What does catch me off guard is my mother, who hasn’t met Matthew before and is studying him intently. Her usual welcoming nature is nowhere to be found. Her gaze dips to our intertwined hands, and I swear, for the first time ever, my mother looks at me disapprovingly. It’s only for a second, and I wonder if I read her wrong. Her gaze then snaps up to meet Matthew’s.
“Eli mentioned you were dating my daughter. I hope you’re treating her like the princess she is,” my father says with a smile, but his eyes hint at something else. It’s not a joking matter at all. It’s an obvious threat, and Matthew gives my hand a gentle squeeze as if to reassure me.
“Yes, of course,” Matthew replies. He turns to my mother then and offers his hand. “Lovely to meet you. I can see where Billie gets her beauty from.” She doesn’t seem flattered, though she offers a polite enough smile.